Looking Back, Leaping Forward

A Look Back at 2011

2011 was a good year for me in many ways. Here are some of the highlights:

• SCBWI RA retreat. Even though it was a cruise to the Bahamas, it was fun. I’m not big on the whole cruise scene, but the people we were with made it all wonderful. I enjoyed getting to know my colleagues better, learning their individual personalities, and feeling more connected to this group. Sea kayaking also topped the list.
• Our own SCBWI conference in Boise. It was a fantastic conference with agent Jen Rofe, publisher Lori Benton, and author Carol Lynch Williams.
• Attending Writing and Illustrating for Young Readers in Utah. AKA, the Carol conference. I took Ann Cannon’s boot camp class, and it was fantastic. We had an intense week of reading, writing, and revising. I respect my fellow class members and all were amazing writers. I learned so much, and I’m still revising that manuscript.
• Camp Sawtooth. Senior high camp. Love these kids. Love the mountains. Love the food. (How many camps can you say that about?) This is a frenetic week of intense stuff, but always incredible. Teenagers are some of the most awesome people.
• SCBWI LA conference. The 40^th anniversary of SCBWI, an organization that has made many a children’s author/illustrator’s career. My favorite part: the round-table intensives. Again, learned a ton, and am still revising.
• SCBWI Utah/southern Idaho novel revision retreat with Emma Dryden. I had so much fun meeting Emma and hanging out with her for a day before the retreat. She is one amazing lady. And she knows SO much. Wow. The retreat participants were also amazing writers and human beings. And the Stonefly Lodge: stunning.
• Charleston, SC. I knew nothing about Charleston when I arrived. By the time I left, I had learned so much really interesting stuff. I never knew rice was one of the first crops grown on plantations. Fell in love with shrimp and grits. Love it. Will return.
• My recorder pal, Pam Piper-Ruth, and I dedicated our year to learning to play the alto recorder, which is in a different key and has different fingerings than the soprano/tenor recorders. We have almost learned all the notes, and we are able to play altos with the larger group. That is affirming.
• I decided to take bagpipe lessons. Hopefully, I will learn how to play well enough to get real bagpipes at some point.
• I served meals to the needy in our community. This is a very gratifying thing to do. Not because it makes me feel important or superior. Quite the opposite. I know that it could very well be me standing in that line. These folks are fellow human beings, and their dignity is important.
• Saw my old friend Jennifer Cochern for the first time in several years. Need to see more of her.

In short, this year involved a lot of travel to interesting places, lots of writing classes with very, very talented folks, and lots of learning for myself.

Probably the only thing that wasn’t great about this year for me was that my weight loss journey stalled in a big way. I’m still doing Weight Watchers, and I refuse to give up. But I didn’t lose any weight this year. (Well, I lost weight: the same five pounds over and over again.) Still, I am wearing clothes two sizes smaller than when I began this path, so I’m still hanging in there. I have Melissa to thank for being my cheerleader in this.

Looking Ahead to 2012

This has potential to be a big exciting year for me. I have hopes for some amazing things to happen.

• I applied for the SCBWI Nevada mentorship program. I am anxious to find out if I got in. If so, it will be another intense year of perfecting my craft and learning from the best. If not, I will still be intensively perfecting my craft in some other fashion. Maybe a return to WIFYR.
• I will turn 50 this year, and I’m planning a trip to my birthplace to celebrate. That would be Yosemite National Park. Yes, I was born IN the park. There was a hospital there at the time when my dad worked at the park. He was a National Park Service ranger, which is why we lived in so many interesting places. I am very excited to go, because I have absolutely no memory of the place, as I was two years old when we moved away.
• If things line up, I will be dean of Camp Sawtooth Senior High Camp this year, and that makes me very excited. I go to sleep at night thinking about how much fun we will have. I have Gregory Taylor to thank for talking me into this adventure three years ago.
• I am recommitting myself to myself. Specifically to getting back on the weight loss horse and continuing this journey. I want to be healthy, more fit, and disease free. And I will not give up. This is a landmark year for me, and I want to be as fit as possible when I hit Yosemite in September.
• I’m looking forward to seeing what other things pan out. My freelance business is going well, my writing is going well, and I would like to start submitting to some agents again.
• Maybe, just maybe (wink, wink, nudge, nudge) that oil money will start rolling in, and we’ll have enough money to fund all three kids’ college educations, fix up our rattletrap house, and give lots of it to very good causes. If you haven’t heard our oil money story, feel free to ask.

In short, I hope this year has as many rewarding writing experiences as last year, more weight loss that stays lost, and more opportunities to help others.

Melissa's Turn

Tomorrow, October 15, is Melissa's 22nd birthday. It's also my mom's, who incidentally predicted that my first child might be born on her birthday. I profiled my mom last mother's day, so this one is all for Melissa.

Oh, where to start with Melissa? How about this: true to her lifelong desire to get going and grow up, she arrived a week before her due date. I was so happy to be a mom, and to have her as my first child, but that's not to say there weren't struggles.

Melissa was a spirited child. Some would say brat, but it wasn't that she was bratty per se. She was spirited. Everything about Melissa has always been intense. Ask anyone who knows her, and they'll back me up on this. She was that intense as a baby, toddler, child, too. That intensity is part of what makes her the awesome person she is, so I can look back and be grateful for her strong presence. However, many times during her early years I wondered if I would survive. It was like having a 20 year old in a 3 month old body. Very frustrating for her, I'm sure, and way frustrating for me.

But we managed. I know I could have done many things better as Melissa's mom. Can't we all? I spent a good deal of her early years suffering from undiagnosed chronic depression, and I'm sure that contributed to some volatile moments, which I'd just as soon forget. (You can ask David why we had to buy a new phone.) Mostly, though, she had to deal with the same thing all firstborns do: rookie parents. Poor kid.

Luckily for Melissa, we had the good fortune of soliciting advice from folks like Annabel vanRavenhorst, Jennifer Cochern, and other La Leche League leaders and fellow moms, who encouraged us to tend to her needs and not worry about "training" her to sleep on her own, wean, and all that stuff. Otherwise, she would probably be a lot more messed up than she is. (Which is not to say she's messed up at all. At least, no more than most people.)

Melissa has always been eager to grow up and precocious in the process. While I sound like I'm bragging (I am), it's also the truth. She hit all her milestones very early on, learned to read and never stopped.

She's always been in love with history. As a preschooler, we read Laura Ingalls Wilder's books to her, and Melissa got heavily into pioneers. Then it was slavery, especially the life of Harriet Tubbman. Titanic was her obsession for a good long while. And then came the Tudors and everything associated with them. No wonder my self-proclaimed history freak is a history major and talks of going to grad school in history.

I vowed never to take any of my children to soccer unless they pleaded, because I didn't really want to do that. Melissa finally asked, if nothing else I think every kid she knew played soccer. She wasn't that into it, and quit almost as fast. She had a brief foray into volleyball in 7th grade, and was really good at it, but not confident enough (my perspective. I'm sure she remembers it differently) to do it the following year. Sports have never been one of Melissa's passions.

Choir and writing have been and continue to be big parts of life for her. She is really good at both music and writing, and could go wherever she wants with those, although I think she likes to do them for her own enjoyment and take them no further than that.

Melissa is one of those people who remembers EVERYTHING (which is why I have a feeling she will dispute every single thing I'm writing here), particularly the tiniest details. At least if they pertain to her. This trait serves her well in school and lots of other areas, but it also means she will sometimes remember those slings and arrows of life far longer than others, who have adapted by repressing those memories. So she can hold a grudge. Just be forewarned.

The other quirky trait (okay, there are many, to be honest) Melissa has is she's a huge worrier. She worries she'll get bad grades, that she has a brain tumor, that the satellite will fall on her. Sometimes these worries are humorous to the rest of us. Like the time she was sure a murderer had come into our house in the middle of the night and moved the laundry basket. (Yes, the murderer moved the laundry basket.) Or the time in junior high when, after learning about the gurgling mass of underground molten water and rock in Yellowstone and Idaho, she came home convinced our whole world was about to explode and we would die. (No, she doesn't watch scary movies.)

Her many lovely traits definitely override these sometimes irritating ones. Melissa doesn't have hundreds of friends; she has a handful of very, very close friends. If she counts you as her friend, she will be loyal and present for you no matter what. It takes her a while to get to know people and let you into her life, but once you're there, she will be your friend for life.

Melissa's sense of humor is one of her strongest traits. All her teachers used to comment how she was the only one in the class who ever got their jokes. She also sees humor in things others aren't even paying attention to--again, a piece of her intensity that makes her so one-of-a-kind. She appreciates almost all humor, whether it's just silly or highly intellectual. This is one reason she loves Shakespeare--and other theatre as well. She gets subtle humor. (Yes, I know, a lot of Shakespeare's humor isn't really all that subtle.)

One of our favorite challenges among Melissa's friends is to make her laugh when she has just taken a drink of something and wait to see if she swallows, spits, or it comes out her nose. Great fun. (Ask her about the diet coke incident. I don't know if she took a drink on that one, but she laughed a good long time.)

Melissa has tried on many personas at various times in her life, and--dare I say--I think she is finally finding her authentic self. Or at least the beginnings of it.

I could go on and on. It has been a privilege that I do not take lightly to be the mother of this amazing woman. I love to hang out with her, yes even shop with her. I love to cook with her, go to movies with her, chat with her, and drink beer with her. I hope we have decades more time to enjoy each other's friendship as adults.

Happy Birthday, Melissa.

Happy Birthday Peter

On the night of September 26, 1996, there was a lunar eclipse. I sat outside with my 40 week pregnant belly and wondered when this baby would appear. Melissa came 1 week early. Emily came 10 days late.

My midwife had assured me that this baby wasn't that big. He sure felt big. We didn't do ultrasounds or know the gender, because we were doing a home birth with a midwife.

I went to bed that night hoping it would be soon. I was getting tired of carrying this little one inside.

True to his compliant nature, Peter arrived the next afternoon at 1:01. He was 10 lb. 10 oz. Yes, you read that right. It is not a typo. He was a big baby after all. We joked that he was two months old at birth. Amazingly, I had no drugs and no tearing. He was a little hard to push out, but that was more because of his sort of sideways position than his size.

At any rate, he arrived on his due date, and made me really happy to have a boy. He was a pretty mellow baby, lovingly attended by his big sisters. Melissa especially like to be a little mommy and sing Peter to sleep. Emily became his best playmate as he grew.

On September 27, 2011, this baby turns 15. Whoa. He is now almost as tall as David, wears a size 11 shoe (still growing, it seems), and sings bass in choir.

It's kind of hard to describe my relationship to this really cool son of mine. When he was little, he loved to have me play with him. We did puzzles, played with his Barney figures, his Buzz Lightyear figures, and his dinosaurs. He liked to ride his tricycle around and around the block. He grew up with dogs and rats and hamsters and guinea pigs all around, and his special dog is Ginger, the one who showed up on our doorstep five years ago with Peter.

Peter was my cuddly boy. Even as old as 11 or 12, we would sit together before he went to bed. We'd talk, play games, read. I remember many a hilarious game of hangman. (Mary Poppins, Peter.)

Once Peter got "too old" for that, I felt a little lost. How does a mother connect with her adolescent son? But we soon found other things that connect us. We love to watch comedians together, and we have a few favorite TV shows, like our latest: "How I Met Your Mother." He's trying to bring me into his world by getting me into Dr. Who. Mmmm, not sure I'm quite there yet.

I love many things about my son. One is his sort of off-beat, weird sense of humor. Or the way he loves to tell me about whatever his passion of the moment is. As a little tyke, it was dinosaurs, then Pokemon, Digimon, Bakugan. Now it's Dr. Who, Munchkin, and computer coding. I often have no idea what he's saying to me, but I'm glad to hear his enthusiasm and joy over stuff. I also love that Peter loves music. It's almost a requirement in this house, but he has a genuine love of percussion. He has excellent musical skills, which I'm sure are partly genetic, but also hugely due to the constant stream of music happening in our house all the time. I am so glad at least one of my children is still in band and wants to do band in high school.

One of the most awesome things about Peter is that he is totally okay with himself, unafraid to be weird or geeky or even creepy. He likes "nerdy" things like chess, computers, band, scouts. He learned how to make creme brulee and homemade bagels. He took a gardening class and tells me what I should plant with what. A teenager with this kind of self-assuredness is a delight to be with.

Peter has the messiest room I've ever seen. His sisters will back me up on that statement. We call it the black hole. But he is happy with it for now, so we just shut the door and agree not to take it too seriously. Peter's personality is that of a leader, someone who likes to take charge, be on the top of the heap, and help others coming up behind him. He is smart like his sisters, outdoorsy like his parents, a pyromaniac like his dad, and sleeps and eats like any teenage boy.

I truly enjoy my son. Oh sure, he can be annoying at times. Like when he is "Mister Literal." That's when he takes everything you say literally. He has been known to write up contracts in order to make sure we all agree on something. He is also not so keen on doing chores or working on anything unless he wants to. He drinks far too much soda. But, you know, overall, the kid's okay. He is one of the good ones. Someone we can count on. Someone who works and plays and relaxes in equal measure. He's respectful when he should be and kind to others. In short, someone I like hanging out with. And he seems to like hanging out with me, too. I guess that says a lot more about our relationship than anything else I have written. So I'll stop there.

Happy Birthday to my favorite son, Peter Christian Jensen

Happy Birthday to Me

In the past, I’ve sent out my “Christmas” letter at various times of the year. Since my birthday is upon us, (not looking for gifts or anything—wink, wink, nudge, nudge) I think now is a good time. Especially since much is going on in the ever changing world of the Jensens.

So…here’s what’s up with me. I mean, it is MY birthday, and my blog. I spent 1 ½ years getting certified to be a secondary English teacher, only to be looking during the worst recession in decades. Not to mention our loony state superintendent of schools has pushed through some disturbing legislation that makes our schools less effective, and in the process, eliminates quite a few teaching jobs. I’m sure I’ve posted about it before, so feel free to read those rants in other posts. I kept substitute teaching for a while, but it just wasn’t the same as having my own classroom.

So…I went back to my freelancing work, which has taken off quite a bit. Gee, maybe it has something to do with that recession? People not having enough money to hire someone full time, but just enough to hire freelancers? What do you know? I just might have found my niche. With the rise of self publishing (shhh, don’t tell anyone I said that word), more and more companies are sprouting up to help people publish their fiction (and non-fiction), and they hire me to edit for them. So I am basically doing all the fun parts of editorial without all the crappy meetings, financials, and corporate stuff I hated.

I did work for about six months at my favorite indie bookstore. (Shout-out to Rediscovered Books.) It was a supremely part-time gig, with the biggest benefit being the employee discount on books. Needless to say, not much of my paycheck stayed in my bank account. I liked it, liked the people, loved the customers—especially the Saturday morning folk who came down to the farmer’s market. But it was just not really helping me achieve what I wanted. (Except to own more books.)

So…I have been focusing my efforts more on writing my own fictional works (in addition to the afore-mentioned works of others). I have one novel completed, one just about done, two more in the writing phase, and several others in various stages of planning and pre-writing. The one I’m about to finish will be going out on submissions this fall, so wish me luck. As part of my writing life, I am an assistant regional advisor for my region of Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators. That role got me on a cruise to the Bahamas (it was a working trip, I promise) and to LA for the 40th anniversary conference. I also spent a week in Salt Lake City in an intensive class with Ann Cannon and a group of incredible writers. I keep learning amazing new things at every turn.

Music is still very important to me. I play my flute anytime someone asks. I play in my recorder group. Right now I am learning alto recorder, which is in a different key than the soprano/tenor voices, so it is a challenge. I am planning to start up bag pipe lessons this fall. Just had

an urge to try it. And I am in the handbell choir and the orchestra at our church.

In other news, I am still on my weight loss journey. Year one produced a 30 pound loss. Year two has been sort of a stall. I haven’t gained any weight, but I haven’t lost any either. However, I must be getting firmer or toner or something, because I keep buying smaller clothes. And I’m in no rush. I am a firm believer that the slow weight loss will be a long-term weight loss. I know my body. It does not respond to much of anything in a fast way. I say it is like a glacier. Change happens VERY slowly. So, I am being a lot more active, eating a lot more fresh fruits and vegetables, and thoroughly enjoying my food. Odd, isn’t it? Food is my friend, not my enemy. I can enjoy it all I want and still lose weight.

Life in our home has changed quite a bit, now that both Melissa and Emily have moved out. Melissa moved out about a year ago, and is living in her own apartment. Emily moved out not long after, and is sharing an apartment with her boyfriend, Isaac, and another friend of theirs. And she recently got an adorable kitten named Luna. (After the Harry Potter character.)

So our house is quieter, cleaner, and less crowded. Fortunately, both girls are still in Boise, so we see them often. Peter still is at home for at least a few more years. He took over the girls’ room with his drum set.

David is busy, busy, busy at work. His associate moved to another company, so his work load is heftier. Hopefully he will get another one soon. David won an award this year from the Idaho Bar for service to the bar. You can ask him about it if you want more details. Apparently it had something to do with lending codes. Fascinating, right? The nice part of that was going with him to Sun Valley to receive the award. He is loving his role as a Boy Scout leader, going camping every month, backpacking, and watching Peter become a leader in the troop. David also ushers at church, which I think is just a gig to get out of listening to the sermon. (But hey, I do orchestra to get out of singing the hymns, so I guess we’re even.)

Melissa is a senior at Boise State, majoring in history with a minor in political science and a potential second minor in art history. She plans to go to grad school in history, although the details of that are still up in the air. She still has three semesters to go, even though she's officially a senior. She's taken a lot of classes, but still has some requirements to meet her major. She is also a voracious author, having written five or six completed novels. And a singer.

Emily graduated from high school in 2010, took a year off after taking something like 10 AP classes her last two years and feeling slightly burned out. She was planning on going to New Mexico Tech, but she has a boyfriend here who is awesome and would certainly move there with her if she asked. But she decided to stay here and go to Boise State. Partly because of the guy, but mostly (so she says) because she wanted to also do some languages that NMT does not offer. So she is majoring in physics, minoring in engineering, and taking Chinese. Her plans are to go on for a doctorate in astrophysics. She hopes to be an astronaut if they still have astronauts by the time she gets to that point. She is also working on her pilot's license and will solo soon. She, too, is an author with several novels under her belt. As well as a composer and pianist.

Peter is a freshman in high school. He is a drummer in band, loves Boy Scouts--will be Life this year--and is taking driver's ed. Yikes. He is also into chess, tennis, and possibly golf. He thinks right now he'd like to go into some form of engineering. He loves computers and reads coding manuals for fun?! He is pretty much your typical 15 year old boy--likes fire and exploding things, doesn't talk much unless he gets excited about something, ignores most of what I say, and eats primarily sugar and grease.

Our old dog Frodo is really showing his age, which we estimate to be around 13 years, give or take. But with the wonder of drugs, we keep him going. He doesn’t chase squirrels anymore nor can he withstand long walks. But he sure acts spry when food is involved. The “puppies”—Ginger and Dodger—are five now, but crazy and frenetic as ever. Also very cuddly, so they snuggle with me a lot. There are no rodents as pets in the house at the moment, and I don’t anticipate any. Melissa loves Emily’s cat and plans to move into an apartment that allows pets next year so she can get a kitten or puppy. Our pets are a big part of our family, and incredibly, they are less messy than the humans.

So as I enter the final year of my fourth decade, how I do I see the world? Myself? Do we really need to ask these questions? As many people do as they get older, I see that things I once felt were of vital importance really aren’t so important. I care less and less what other people think of me or my kids, what my credit score is, how messy my house is, or whether I’m doing a good job as a parent. I care more and more about enjoying my life, being helpful and compassionate to others, making the world somehow better for my having been here, and continually challenging myself as a writer, musician, and person. I won’t apologize for the amount (or quality of) television I watch, having a cookie when I want one, or routinely forgetting things. I look forward to spending the second half of my life with David, being silly old people together (our fantasy is to live in an assisted living center growing medical marijuana—JK), and making our grandchildren laugh at our antics. I will keep you posted.

Random Musings (or: Heat Gets in My Brain)

It's July. Where did that come from? What happened to the happily middle ground of heat and cold called June? It was cold, rainy, miserable. And now it is unbearably hot. Really? Come on. If you don't believe in climate change, let me just invite you to peruse our spring weather here in the "desert" of Idaho.

My brain tends to go in random directions. So if you're not in a rambling mood, please desist immediately.

It occurred to me yesterday that we spend more of our lives as parents of adults than we do as parents of children. Granted, childhood seems very, very long when you are the befuddled parent of three small children. but now that I've been parenting for almost 22 years, I am really enjoying parenthood more and more. Because the hard part (I hope) is done. They are transitioning into adulthood and doing well at it. They like to hang out with me (mostly because they get free food/laundry/gas if they do, I'm not naive), and I like to hang out with them. So it seems to me that fostering a close and pleasing relationship with our children is the most important thing we can do as parents. Yes, yes, we want to instill in them strong values, a good work ethic, and a drug free lifestyle, but really most of those things are a result of living by our own values. You can't beat that stuff into your children. And no matter what kind of grades they get, if they drink before they turn 21, if they hang out with the wrong crowd, if they don't share your religious or political beliefs--none of that matters in terms of parenting. What matters is can you talk with them as equals? Can you find common interests. Can you stand each other? I can happily answer yes to all these questions. So the future of parenting for me is looking good so far. That makes me feel great. After all, they're the ones who have to take care of me in another 40 or so years.

On a related note, living in a house with a pre-menopausal woman and a nearly 15 year old boy is not always congenial. I have determined that I think 15 is the worst of the teenage years. My son Peter will turn 15 in a couple of months. He is often surly, grouchy, hungry, tired, unmotivated, and irritated by everything. I've been through this twice before, so I don't take it personally, but I'm older now. I'm also tired, irritated by everything, etc. You get the picture. However, at least I have the experience to know that engaging in arguing or pointing fingers does no good. I usually just wait until a better mood finds its way into Peter's psyche. Usually when he's talking about Dr. Who, has been watching comedians, has just had a large caffeinated beverage, or I'm taking him to Burger King. Then I can broach the subject of the pile of crap he needs to do. Nevertheless, we do have a close, similar-interests kind of relationship mentioned above. We both like comedians, camping, and other stuff. So I think we'll make it. Until the hot flashes hit. Then it's every male for himself.

Speaking of males, tomorrow is my oldest brother, Mike's, birthday. He's a LOT older than me, just to clarify. (No offense, I just want to emphasize what's left of my own young years.) So, since I've profiled my mom and dad recently, I think I shall briefly comment on Mike. Mike was always kind of removed from my life as a kid, since he graduated and left home when I was in 4th grade. I do remember his hippie years fondly. How my grandma Ruth commented, upon seeing his long, long curly hair when he returned from Spain, that he looked like a girl. High five, grandma. I remember how he hitchhiked to and from college. My mom worried like crazy. Our family liked to play games like Monopoly, hearts, and Risk. It seemed to me that he always won. He was kind of a ruthless competitor.(Okay, not "kind of." He was a mean ruthless competitor.) Being the little sister, I often finished out these games in tears. He liked to argue. (Who of the McClanahans doesn't like a good argument?) Again, being younger and not as world-wise, I usually ended up in tears. As we got older and I became more liberal in my politics and religious views than Mike, we had a frequently contentious relationship. Even so, he has always been my big brother and I looked up to him. Even if he did royally piss me off. Several years ago, though, Mike made a move to forge a closer brother/sister bond. He reached out to me and began calling once a week. We talk on the phone now more than we ever talked in many years. We still don't agree on quite a few things, but we can manage to talk and share of our lives together. Happy birthday, big brother.

I think that's all my brain power for now. The heat has zapped what else I might have had.

My Dad

It's father's day, and I just wanted to share some memories of life growing up with my dad, Lester McClanahan. He's still with us on planet earth, but I don't get to see him very often.

One memory that occurred to me the other day was Sunday afternoons with dad. We lived out in the country, and didn't have much on the tv, except sports. While our Sundays were often full of football or baseball on tv, much of the time, we relaxed. One favorite of mine was playing the card game War with my dad. As you know, War is one of those games that can be over in a minute or can go on and on for an hour. We sat on the living room floor and played and laughed.

Our Sunday morning routine was to stop on the way to church to pick up the paper. Since we had a 13-mile drive into town, my dad would toss me the comics which I read while we drove to town.

When my family moved from New York City out to South Dakota, my parents decided that is where they would retire. They promptly bought a gorgeous 23-acre ranch and proceeded to spend every Saturday for the next decade preparing it, building a house, and digging a well. My dad had this old jalopy of a Jeep pickup truck. On Saturday's I would sit in the back and we'd drive up to the ranch. At first, we dug post holes for fence. Hard work, so I am pretty sure I helped out for about five minutes then went off to explore the hills. Then we dug the well house. Same story. Then the house. We all put in a ton of hours on that place. As a teen I sort of got tired of spending every Saturday up there. But those are fond memories of bouncing along the dirt roads in the back of the pickup.

During the summer when I was home from school, we would eat lunch together. We would have a bologna sandwich (or maybe fried spam or peanut butter--I know, right?) and listen to Paul Harvey on the radio. Then he would watch a soap opera and take a short nap. Then he'd go back to work. How many kids watched lunchtime soap operas with their dads? Not many, I'm guessing.

Coming from Irish and Scottish stock, my dad had a temper, and it was best to stay on the good side of that. But he also was quick to laugh and paid attention to his children.

I remember routinely getting off the school bus at Wind Cave and going into my dad's office to just say hi. It was really cool that I could do that. Just pop into his office.

When it was time for me to go off to my sophomore year of college, I transferred to Carleton. He drove me out. I don't remember a single thing about the trip except that it was cool having a road trip with just me and my dad.

I am always glad that I had the privilege of having my dad walk me down the aisle on my wedding day. I have known many women whose dad was already gone by that point. I am one of the lucky ones who got the joy of my dad by my side on that special day.

When my first child was born, Dad would hold her in his special grandpa hold and sing "Clementine" to her.

Dad and I have had many differences throughout the years, but he is always my dad. He always is proud of me and will always listen to me. Like many of us do, Dad has mellowed with the years, and nowadays he is more ready to apologize when things get tense. He cries when it is time to say good-bye because no one knows if it will be our last good-bye or not. He gives big bear hugs. I know my dad would have done anything for us, because he did. He worked hard and he took his role as dad seriously. Lots of fathers were not very present, but he was.

I love my dad. And I wish you the most awesome father's day today.

A Mother's Day Tribute to Wanda

My mother, Wanda McClanahan, deserves all the best things this Mother's Day. I've been wracking my brain trying to think of what to give her. David, the husband, always useful, suggested that what she would like most would be a poem or something written by me. I'm not much in a poem writing mood, mom, so I'm writing you a blog post.

My mom and I have not always had the best relationship. Once I hit puberty, she probably wanted to send me far, far away. And as I recall, I would have happily gone far, far away. I have to confess, I wasn't much better as a daughter when I hit adulthood. I had a lot of issues, none of which are her fault. But I spent a good many years thinking she was at fault. I'm sorry. That was unfair.

However much I complained, fought, blamed, my mom never gave up on me. She always supported me in every way, never told me to go to hell (which would have been perfectly understandable and deserved if she had), and always told me how proud she was of me.

Here are some of my best memories of life with my mom. My earliest and favorite memories of my mom are of curling up next to her while she read to me. And she read to me a lot. I had this one book about a silly witch who had a haunted house and some people bought it and turned it into a tea room. I loved that book, along with the one about the muskrat children who didn't get along and Miss Twigglie's Tree (I think that was the title). These memories are cozy, warm, and loving. What a great thing to give me. Thank you mom.

My mom was an efficient production unit, sewing all our clothes, canning food she either grew or picked, and doing all kinds of community work. I remember really early on, when we lived in New York, she would go sew sheets or something for needy people. I got to tag along because I wasn't in school yet. Later on, I tagged along when she went to every farm within 50 miles and picked corn, beans, berries, and all kinds of yummy food to be canned at home. I'm sure I complained a lot about that, but looking back, it is a good memory. I especially liked picking wild berries with my mom. She never let a berry bush go by unpicked. We picked gooseberries, chokecherries, raspberries, everything. She transformed these into delicious jellies we ate all year long. I'm sure I complained about all the icky home canned vegetables, but now I wish I had paid more attention and learned how to do it myself.

I have fond memories of coming home after school in August and September to the smell of pickling spices. It's a very vivid sensory memory.

Because we lived in the country, Mom had to drive me into town for every thing I did. Swimming lessons, band practices, girl scouts, everything. This she did willingly. I know I was glad for the day I got my driver's license, and I'm sure she had mixed feelings of relief and terror at the thought of me driving myself along those windy roads into town.

My mother tried to provide the stability and safety to her children that was lacking in her own childhood, and I never understood this until much later in my life. She doesn't talk much about the hardships she faced growing up, but I admire her tenacity and the choices she made to make a good life for her own family.

We did have a good life. In those days, moms told their kids after breakfast to go outside and play. When your playground is a national park, that's the best. We spent all our summers playing outside, hiking, pondering, mulling, and otherwise occupying ourselves. It was the best.

When it was time for me to go off to college, I wanted to go out of state, and to a private school, no less. At first my parents weren't sure that scheme was feasible, but Mom eventually realized it was what I needed, and she supported me in that choice. I'm sure it was a hardship financially. But they did it. When I wanted to transfer after the first year, my mom's main concern was that I not drop out. She really wanted me to graduate from college, because she did not. Thank you mom.

I am not an easy daughter, and I wish my mom had had a daughter who was kind, respectful, easier to raise, and appreciated her more. All in all, though, I feel that my mom gave me a great start in life, and I think I'm pretty okay. After 48 years, I find myself appreciating my mom more and more all the time. And I just wanted to let you know. There have been times when I've been downright horrible to you, mom, and you did not deserve that. I am sorry for those times. I hope the good things have overshadowed those times. These memories are precious to me and I hope to you as well.

I love you. Happy Mother's Day.